


New Kid

by gadreeel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gadreeel/pseuds/gadreeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is the new kid, forced to take a physics class, and Cas is the quiet brainiac who helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came from the cute boy in my high school chem class who used to help me out when I didn’t know the answer. Here’s looking at you, Stephen.

  The fact that physics is the first class of the day should be enough warning that Dean will definitely _not_ like his new high school.  He isn’t even supposed to take the class, strictly speaking – to take it in twelfth grade, you’re supposed to have taken it in eleventh grade as well – but seeing as how it’s the only open class left in that time slot, the school counselor promised to let it slide, assuring Dean that he would get the hang of it eventually. Because apparently quantum mechanics was just one of those things you ‘ _got the hang of_ ’.

  And so, first thing Monday morning, Dean winds up sitting in a squeaky old desk in the middle of a crowd of unfamiliar faces, trying to ignore the feeling of their eyes on his back.  He figured he would get a few strange looks, being the new kid who showed up in the middle of the semester, but this seems a bit excessive.

  “Okay, class, please get out last night’s homework and pass it forward. Make sure your name is at the top,” announces the teacher as she walks through the door, coffee in one hand and textbook in the other.

  Dean stares ahead at the blackboard as the room fills with the sound of papers rustling and bags unzipping.  He obediently grabs the papers handed to him from the kid sitting behind him and passes them all forward, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He’s not the shy type, really; he just feels out of his element here.  His old school was a little more rough-and-tumble, which at least made it easy to know where he stood.  Here, though, he can’t tell if everyone is looking at him with innocent curiosity, or if they’re just judging him.

  He turns to the girl sitting next to him and clears his throat to get her attention “Hi, I’m Dean,” he whispers, giving her his most charming grin in a desperate attempt to make at least one friend in this awful class.

  “I’m Bela,” the girl replies, then, after eyeing him up for a moment, adds a sarcastic, “Nice leather jacket, Danny Zuko.”

  Dean narrows his eyes at her and leans back in his chair, biting back the snide remarks that bubble up in his throat and settling for shooting her the dirtiest look he can muster.

  The teacher walks down the front row of desks, collecting all the papers, before coming to a stop in front of Dean’s row as she catches sight of him. “Oh, right! You must be Dean. I’m Ms. Harvelle,” she says.

  Dean nods to acknowledge her introduction, slinking deeper in his seat and hoping the teacher will leave him alone.  If he’s not going to make friends in this class, he might as well take this opportunity to nap, after all.

  “So, Dean, what unit were you on in your last physics class?” Ms. Harvelle asks, turning to write some equations down on the board.

  “I don’t really remember.  It’s all just a bit of a physics-y…blur,” Dean lies lamely.

  Ms. Harvelle frowns, then turns to the board and writes down the weirdest looking equation Dean has ever seen. “Are you familiar with this formula?”

  “Uh…” Dean can feel everyone’s eyes on him, can see that Bela girl smirking at him from the corner of his eye, and the pressure hits him.  The equation starts with a ‘d=’, and dirty jokes aside, he thinks he knows what that’s supposed to mean. “Distance?” he guesses.

  Ms. Harvelle nods encouragingly, and Dean’s heart sinks as he realizes there’s more to the formula than just ‘distance’, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to guess what the rest of those letters mean.

  He’s just given up all hope when he feels a finger tap at his shoulder, and a low voice whispers in his ear, “Distance during acceleration, from the kinematics unit.”

  Dean straightens up in his seat, caught off-guard by the voice. “Oh! Um, that’s from kinematics, isn’t it? Distance during acceleration?”

  Ms. Harvelle looks impressed as she nods at him. “Well done.  It looks like you’ll have an edge on the rest of the class; they haven’t learned that formula yet.  Okay, everyone, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday with that note on calculating final velocity.”

  Everyone shifts their attention back to their books, and Dean turns around in his chair to thank his savior.  The boy behind him is focused on his notepad, acting like nothing happened, and Dean taps the edge of his desk to get his attention.

  “Hey, thanks for that,” Dean says once the boy meets his gaze.

  The boy looks surprised at Dean’s words, like he hadn’t expected to be thanked. “You’re welcome,” he says simply.

  “I’m Dean.”

  “Castiel,” he replies, offering a smile.

  “Eyes forward,” Ms. Harvelle calls, not singling anyone out, but Dean doesn’t push his luck as he turns back around in his seat, feeling a grin break across his face at the knowledge that he’s officially made one friend here.

+

  Although Dean’s pleased to have his one friend, he’s quickly seeing the drawbacks of not knowing more than five people at this school – the biggest problem is lunch. He walks through the cafeteria, searching for someone he recognizes amongst all the tables, and coming up with nothing. The closest thing to a familiar face is Bela, and the way she points at him before turning to whisper something to her friends and giggling encourages Dean to walk past as if he didn’t even see her there.

  After two loops of the cafeteria he gives up and is about to take a seat at an empty table near the back window when he catches sight of Castiel sitting outside, sitting in the shade of an oak tree in the school’s courtyard. Without a second thought Dean heads for the door, carrying his lunch tray with him out into the sunshine. He gets the feeling he’s not supposed to be out here, judging by the fact that he and Castiel are the only ones outside, but he doesn’t much care.  He knows he’ll probably manage to get himself in a lot of trouble at this school, so why not start now?

  “Hey! Castiel, right?” Dean calls, getting the boy’s attention as he sits down next to him.

  “Hm? Oh, yes, but you can call me Cas.” Cas takes a bite from the sandwich in his hands and reaches into a brown paper bag to pull out a pack of chips. “Do you want some?”

  Dean grins and tears open the bag, completely forgetting about the barely edible cafeteria food he brought out with him as he takes a handful of chips and passes the bag back to Cas.

  “So, you’re some kind of physics buff, huh?” Dean asks through a mouthful of half-chewed chips.

  Cas shrugs, taking a few chips from the bag before handing the packet back to Dean. “I’m not the _worst_ student in the class,” he says modestly.

  “No, that would probably be me.” Dean frowns and stuffs a few particularly large handfuls of chips in his mouth, only to realize there are only a few chip crumbs left in the bag by this point.  He offers the nearly empty bag back to Cas with an apologetic smile.

  Cas just shrugs, genuinely not seeming bothered by the fact that the weird new kid just ate all his chips. “It’s not that hard, really.  It’s just about memorizing formulas.”

  “Yeah, but that means math, and I’m not so good with that,” Dean admits.

  “I’m sure you’ll do well.” Cas smiles, and Dean takes a moment to notice the way the sun hits his skin through the leaves of the trees, casting a beautiful pattern of light and shadow across his face.

  He blinks a few times and clears his throat, hoping he hasn’t been staring long enough to raise suspicion. “Uh, thanks, but I doubt it.  I flunked math last year.”

  Cas knits his brows together. “Then how are you taking physics?  Math is a prerequisite for the class here.”

  “Strictly speaking, I may not be… _qualified_ for physics.” Dean shifts uncomfortably.  He doesn’t want Cas to know about his less than impressive academic history. He likes Cas, feels the urge to impress him more than he should want to show off for any other new friend.

  “Oh. Then yeah, you’ll probably be the worst in the class,” Cas says, but he’s got a soft smile on his face as he says it. “I could help you, though – if you wanted.”

  “What, like, tutor me?”

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.  It was just an idea.” Cas looks down at the ground, suddenly becoming very fascinated with a dandelion poking out of the ground beside his leg as he sheepishly avoids Dean’s eyes.

  “No, no – I’d be glad to get some help, to be honest,” Dean says. Granted, homework isn’t exactly how he’d like to be spending his evening, but he’s in no place to turn down a night with a new friend right now.

  Cas nods and smiles at Dean for a moment, seeming surprised but pleased at Dean’s willingness, and holds his hand out for Dean’s phone to put his number in it. “You can text me. If you want, of course. Just tell me where and when to meet you, or something,” he says, suddenly seeming very nervous.

  Dean claps him on the shoulder – apparently a little harder than necessary, as Cas nearly tips over, barely managing to steady himself in time – and grins. “Sounds good,” he says, taking the phone back and inspecting the new contact. _Castiel Novak_ , he notes.

  “Something wrong?” Cas frowns, noticing the way Dean looks at his phone just a little too long.

  Dean snaps out of it, quick on his feet to find an excuse. “Yeah, actually. You need a profile photo.”

  “I don’t think I _need_ one, phones don’t normally—”

  “I say you need one,” Dean interrupts, holding his phone out at an angle to try and get the best perspective of Cas’ face.

  He stares into the camera, looking very displeased and not even trying to fake a smile. Dean snaps the picture after a few seconds – once he’s realized Cas isn’t going to change his expression – and reluctantly assigns it to his profile.

  “How’s that?” Cas asks, life suddenly returning to his face.

  “You weren’t smiling.”

  “You just said you wanted a picture, you never said anything about a smile.”

  “I didn’t know you charged extra for some tooth action,” Dean grumbles.

  Cas chuckles, and Dean quickly reaches up to snap a new picture – a better picture. He glances down at the screen only to see that it’s a little blurry and Castiel’s eyes are closed, but he still likes it so much that he saves it to his library before setting it to Cas’ new contact photo.

  He looks up to see the other boy looking at him with furrowed brows and a curious expression, but Dean just shrugs and pockets his phone with a smile, changing the subject before Cas can ask any questions.

+

  Cas and Dean arrange to meet at the city library at 6 that night, giving them both time to have dinner beforehand.  Dean offers to treat Cas to some McDonald’s in exchange for his tutelage, but apparently Cas has a big family and they’re very into dinners being a family affair, so that plan goes out the window.  At first Dean is disappointed that Cas couldn’t make it, but as soon as he gets home he quickly finds he needs a few hours to himself more than he realized.

  He heads up to his room and throws his backpack on the floor without a second thought, turning on his radio and starting to put up the mountain of posters he’d brought with him.  His room just doesn’t feel like _his_ room without all the finishing touches, posters included.

  His younger brother Sam pokes his head in a few minutes later, bobbing his head to the familiar melody of Dean’s favorite song. “How was your first day?” he asks, walking in without so much as asking permission and instantly collapsing on Dean’s bed.  He knows it drives his big brother crazy when he makes comes in uninvited like this, and Dean’s fairly certain that’s exactly _why_ he does it, but he knows there’s no point in telling Sam to stop so he just ignores it.

  Dean shrugs and pulls out one of the thumbtacks he’s holding in his teeth, using it to secure the edge of another poster once he’s certain it’s straight. “S’okay,” he mumbles, doing his best to speak without getting stabbed in the tongue by the pins.

  “How was _physics_?” Sam teases, a wicked glint in his eye.

  Dean stiffens, instantly wondering how Sam knows about Cas, before he realizes Sam is just teasing him about being stuck in the class.  He turns to spit the thumbtacks at Sam and collapses in the beat-up desk chair in the corner of his room. “It was fan-friggin’-tastic. How do you think it was?”

  “Did you make any friends?”

  “Of course I made friends.  I’m in very high demand, you know,” Dean says with a heavy sigh, checking the time. 5:07. The library is only 5 minutes from here – or so Google maps tells him.  He wants to leave now, to spend time with an actual friend rather than sit here and think about all the unpacking he has to do.  It might also have something to do with wanting to see Cas again. Just maybe.

  “Did you get lots of homework?”

  “What is with you and the 20 questions tonight, Sammy?” Dean frowns.

  “I’m _bored_ ,” he whines in reply, flopping down onto his back on the bed with a pout.

  “Well, you’ll have to find something to do.  I’m going to meet a friend at the library in an hour.”

  “Can I come with you?” Sam asks, eyes lighting up.

  “No, you can’t,” Dean huffs.  Sam deflates visibly, frowning, and Dean sighs before softening his expression. “Dad should be home soon – if you give him that sad puppy dog face, he’ll probably take you out to see that movie you were talking about.  Maybe even get you some pizza, too.”

  Sam perks up considerably. “You think?”

 Dean laughs and nods, reaching over to ruffle Sam’s hair.  Sam pulls a face and swats his hand away. “Yeah.  See if you can get him to bring home a slice for me.”

 “Promise,” Sam says with a nod.

  Dean just grins and heads over to his closet, kicking his way through the boxes in front of it.  One of the boxes makes a suspicious shattering sound as it hits the ground, but Dean just winces and pretends he didn’t hear it. “Hey, Sam, is it weird if I change clothes to meet someone I already saw today?”

  Sam blinks a few times and cocks his head, confused. “What?”

  “Well, I mean, if I already saw them at school, then they’ll know I changed my clothes when I came home.”

  “Is that where you’re going tonight?  On a date? _Already_?” Sam asks.

  “Don’t sound so surprised, Sammy,” Dean grumbles, before shaking his head. “It’s not a date, necessarily.”

  “Then yeah, that’d be a little weird.”

  Dean frowns and looks himself in the mirror, carefully inspecting his outfit of choice. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to impress Cas with these worn-out jeans and a grungy t-shirt; Cas seemed too refined to like that.  Dean had always been good at charming people and flirting, with both boys and girls alike, but there weren’t many people like Cas back in his old town, leaving Dean with no clue as to how to win him over.  It bothers him, makes him feel out of his element.

  “What if it was a date?” Dean asks, trying to mask his curiosity.

  “It’d still be weird,” Sam says.

  Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re just a kid, what do you know about dates?” he grumbles, unsure why he even asked in the first place.  He checks the clock – 5:13.  He isn’t sure why he feels so on-edge, but he’s overwhelmed with the urge to keep _doing_ things, so he decides to go downstairs and pick through the leftover Chinese food in the fridge. He hears the padding footsteps of Sam following him, and he knows that his little brother will become his shadow until their father gets home.  He doesn’t look back at Sam as he pulls out a plate and the take-out containers, but he pulls an extra can of Coke for him out from the fridge before he sits down.

  Sam doesn’t say much for a long time, and it’s not until Dean gets up to put his plate in the sink that he finally asks, “Who are you going to see?”

  “Britney Spears,” Dean replies sarcastically.

  “I’m serious. It _is_ a date, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not a date, I’m just going to study.”

  “Oh, it’s _totally_ a date – you’d never go out to study if you didn’t like the person you were going out with,” Sam says, face lit up with glee as if he’s uncovered some massive secret.

  Dean rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother replying as he shrugs on his jacket and checks the driveway.  His father’s still out, and he took the car, so Dean grimly accepts that he’ll have to walk. “Don’t play with anything sharp, Sammy,” he calls before walking out of the house.

  By the time he walks through the front doors of the library, he realizes he should have figured out exactly _where_ he and Cas were supposed to meet.  He wants to send a quick text just asking where he is, but he can’t find a way to word it that doesn’t sound weird or needy, so he puts his phone away and starts exploring the library.  He inspects all the sitting areas and tables but finds no sign of Cas, so he starts weaving his way between the shelves.

  If Dean had been moving any quicker, he would have missed him.  Cas is sitting on the floor in the corner, tucked away behind a shelf with a mess of textbooks and loose-leaf paper scattered around him. Dean knits his brows together and walks over to him, collapsing on the ground next to him. “Was this a game of hide and go seek?”

  Cas looks up, startled. “What?”

  “You aren’t easy to find,” Dean says, and he can’t help but grin at the innocent wide-eyed look on Cas’ face.

  Cas shrugs with a somewhat apologetic look on his face, moving some of his stuff out of the way so Dean can scoot closer. “Bring your books?”

  Dean instinctively reaches behind him, as if to grab a backpack, even though he knows it’s not there. “Not exactly,” he admits, remembering how he’d thrown his bag carelessly on the floor of his bedroom the second he got home.

  Cas raises his brows for half a second. “Good thing I did,” he says, starting to collect the papers and closing up his textbook (Dean thinks it’s a chemistry book, but it gets stuffed into Cas’ bag before he can be sure) and pulling out a physics textbook.

  “How many books do you keep in that thing?” Dean asks, uncertain how all the books and binders and notepads Cas had could _possibly_ fit.

  “It’s called a _book_ bag. It serves its purpose,” Cas says with a shrug, producing a notepad, calculator, and two pencils from the front pouch on his bag.  He hands one of the pencils to Dean and then flips the textbook open to one of the pages marked with a sticky note.

  “You are freakishly organized,” Dean mumbles, sounding more awed than teasing.

  “Thank you,” Cas says, not for even a second taking it as anything other than a compliment. “Here, this was from the first unit of the semester.  It’s supposed to be review, but we’ll use it to teach you.”

  “That’s not condescending at all,” Dean mumbles sarcastically.

  Cas grins at him but doesn’t say anything else, instead turning to jot down a few of the key terms and formulas in the notebook.  Dean watches him closely to see if he references the book, but Cas doesn’t even look up once, evidently having committed everything to memory so well he doesn’t even need to double-check.

  When he finishes, he turns to Dean and holds the notepad out so it’s between them, shuffling a little closer so neither one of them has to strain their necks to get a proper look at it.  He starts explaining what the terms on the paper mean, using the tip of his pencil as a pointer, occasionally remembering something and jotting it down as a side note in the margins.  Dean tries to focus, but it’s hard not to sneak peeks at Cas out of the corner of his eye just to catch a glimpse of how good he looks up close like this. He smells good, too – like laundry detergent and toothpaste.  He realizes he probably should be paying attention to what Cas is saying rather than smelling him, and so he does his best to direct his attention back to the paper.

  Cas stops after a few minutes and hands the notebook over to Dean. “Okay, now do the first question at the top of the page,” he says, pointing to the textbook.

  Dean frowns and reads the question 3 or 4 times before he even understands what the question is asking for.  He feels like he would be a lot better at this if Cas weren’t watching him, putting him under pressure, because even though he knows he’s never been good at math, he at least knows how to _read_ in normal circumstances.

  “Do you want my help?” Cas asks, though there’s no condescension in his voice – just softness.

  Dean starts to shake his head, then meekly nods. “Yeah, actually,” he admits sheepishly.

  Cas shuffles even closer – something Dean hadn’t thought was possible, so close that his chin is practically resting on Dean’s shoulder – and starts to write down all the given information, along with the variables.

  “What’s next?” he asks, voice so quiet and gentle now that they’re sandwiched against each other like this.

  Dean stares intently at the equals sign on the paper, trying not to look anywhere _but_ at the notepad right now. “Picking out a formula,” he guesses confidently.

  Cas nods and flips back to the first page of the notepad, letting Dean see all the formulas he has to choose from. “So, which one do we have the information for?”

  Dean points to the only equation he think will work, hoping desperately to be right.

  “Good, yeah. So, just write down the formula for the first line of your solution, then rearrange it so it solves for ‘v’, and then in the next line, plug in your givens,” Cas explains.

  Dean obediently starts writing, hyperaware of Cas watching everything he does and taking the time to use his neatest writing.  By the time he finishes Cas’ instructions, he’s figured out how to completely solve the problem, so he just keeps writing until he’s ready to punch the equation into the calculator.  He even remembers to write a final statement with the answer, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for that.

  “Is that right?” he asks, cringing as he hears the strangely desperate tone in his own voice.

  Cas nods, his chin bumping against Dean’s shoulder in the process. “Yeah. See, it’s pretty easy.”

  “Nah, you’re just really good at this tutoring thing,” Dean says, turning to look at Cas. His nose nearly bumps into the other boy’s in their proximity, and for a moment they just stare at each other, both caught off-guard by suddenly being _literally_ face-to-face.

  Cas blinks a few times, and Dean swears he hears him _gulp_ before he speaks, but he doesn’t move back. “You caught on really quickly,” he says, and the way he’s looking at Dean is like he’s trying to figure something out, gauging what’s about to happen and where this is going to lead.

  Dean inches a little closer, testing the waters, and Cas does the same, silently encouraging him, and then the space between them is gone and Cas’ lips are _finally_ under Dean’s, and even though he’s known him less than 24 hours it feels like he’s wanted this for a long time. He almost wants to laugh at the thought of him making out with the cute nerdy boy in a library because the whole thing is so very _not him_ , but then Cas’ hand cups under Dean’s jaw, angling his face closer, and suddenly there is nothing laughable about this situation.

  They’re interrupted by a quiet, “Um, excuse me,” as a timid-looking woman tries to step over them to get to the shelf around the corner.  Cas breaks away immediately, pressing his back stiffly up against the wall and blushing timidly, while Dean just lets out a lazy laugh.

  “So, er, are you ready for question two?” Cas asks, licking at his lips.

  “Or we could make out some more,” Dean offers, only half-kidding.

  Cas just gives him a skeptical look. “I’m starting to think you don’t really care that much how you do in physics this year.”

  Dean laughs and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes and letting himself just be happy for a moment. “Wow, Cas, you really are smart.”


End file.
